


Never Enough

by amazing_Hedgehog_girl



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Batman, Confusion, Gen, dc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 14:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17490092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazing_Hedgehog_girl/pseuds/amazing_Hedgehog_girl
Summary: Bruce has no connection to the people of Gotham City until Callista Jones strolls into an event with a business card and a fragile hope.She has a dream and plans to build a better and brighter Gotham City, one child at a time.





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had for a very long time. "What if Batman had to deal with all the human cost of stopping crime on his own?" The idea is still rough and this is very much a first draft. I'll edit properly when I have more time.

Bruce Wayne wasn't used to business meetings conducted so early in the morning. Last night he had been out late, patrolling, looking for intelligence to help him nail down the cause of a sudden quiet in the City. It was unusual for the likes of Killer Croc and other unsavory characters to sped so long out of Arkham and it unnerved him. Still, when he got the polite but determined message, he thought it might be wise to take care of this meeting himself. Walking into his office, he was careful to be settled at his desk and looking less tired than he felt. His eyes were burning and he felt like perhaps he should have called to reschedule. Still, when a young looking woman was shown into the Cavernous mahogany space lined with important books by important people and smelling of stale cigar smoke and leather, she couldn't have looked more out of place if she had tried. Though it was early in the day, the riotous mass of strawberry blonde curls on her head was just barely tamed into a servicable bun and there was a smear of white paint on the back of the hand that was nervously fiddling with the strap of a battered messenger satchel. Everything about her outfit said "Idealist". From the faded yellow dress to a pair of brown canvas shoes that were so old they might have once been almost any other color once. She crossed the room and he could make out more of her features clearly. She was slender and pale with large green eyes and full lips. She was cute, at least in passing. She wore no make up and her gaze was direct and alert. Something about her made him sit straighter in his chair and fold his hands on the desk top.  
"Miss Jones, Good morning." he said, gesturing for her to take a seat. She nodded her thanks and smiled, "Good morning, Mr. Wayne. Thank you for meeting me so early. I'm afraid the only time I get is before the breakfast program and before we start prep for the After School programs." Bruce nodded, "Well, let's cut to the chase then, on the phone you said something about funding?" She smiled, "Yes," she said, "I'd like to expand on the types of programming we offer and to afford it, we need to partner with leaders in the community. We're the 'New Kids' on the block, so to speak and so anything we can do to give ourselves an air of credibility, well." she sighed, "It helps" Bruce stood and paced over to the window overlooking the city, folding his hands behind his back. "New Horizons," he mused, "that's the name of your charity?" "Yes," she said. "That's what we're hoping to bring to Gotham." Bruce heard a ring in her voice, one that he had had in his own a decade ago the first time he picked up his cowl on a quest to clean up the city he loved. Hope. A fragile hope that maybe something could be done. "All we need is just to keep going. " she said, "We take donations from the community but our overhead outstrips what we can bring in. Most of the population that we serve can't afford consistent donations... of course if they could they wouldn't need us." Bruce nodded, "Have you thought of cutting overhead?" he asked. She nodded, "We cut costs wherever we can without sacrificing the quality of services." she said. Bruce nodded thoughtfully, it was true that a small donation wouldn't massively change anything. But, in the hands of idealists it might just change something, however small.   
"Well." he said, turning to face the young woman and finding her turned to face there he stood, anxiety playing over her elfin features. It was clear that this was making her uncomfortable. Boardrooms and plush offices were not her cup of tea. She was more accustomed to coffeehouses and broom closets with desks crammed in. He liked the lack of affectation. He liked her frank and open gaze. It wasn't often that someone wanted money for something and didn't beat around the bush. "I can't see a reason why we couldn't donate something." he said. "Do you know how much you need?" She smiled and it was like the sun coming out, worry lines smoothing out and dimples denting her cheeks, "Anything you can give honestly." she said, "I grew up making a dollar out of 15 cents... All I need is the 15 cents." Bruce felt his own lips twitch, "I'm sure we can give you more than 15 cents." "We'd appreciate it, Mr. Wayne" she grinned at him. Bruce wished it was this easy to make every person who walked into his office this pleased. "I'll get in touch with your office in a few days," he said, " But, $100,000 seems like a reasonable number. Another grin stretched her face until her molars were practically gleaming, "Thank you!" she said bolting out of her chair to shake his hand. Bruce took in the firm, surprisingly calloused hand that gripped his, "The pleasure is all mine." he said. "Gotham can always use a few more do gooders."  
They concluded their meeting shortly after and Bruce watched from his window as she left the building and made her way through the city, the yellow of her dress standing out amid black suits and grey pavement. Callista Jones intrigued him. He wanted to know where she came from. More importantly he wanted to know her. He nodded to himself and settled in at his desk to wait for his next meeting. It wasn't near as interesting as his first and really, if you had asked him, he couldn't have told you what it was about. He was still wondering what color Miss Jones' shoes had started as.


End file.
